tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-334617252018-03-06T01:18:41.653-08:00bug blog^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-79427851844164104472007-02-23T12:38:00.000-08:002008-12-13T03:06:12.103-08:00MOOD SWING INCOMINGHERE IS A PUPPY THAT I LIVE WITH OKAY<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oXJlxxaTSa0/Rd9Ro2dxs7I/AAAAAAAAABY/pf-lz9ZSpwk/s1600-h/treats%3F+treats%3F.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oXJlxxaTSa0/Rd9Ro2dxs7I/AAAAAAAAABY/pf-lz9ZSpwk/s400/treats%3F+treats%3F.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034832670680527794" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I AM VERY PUT OUT<br /><br />STUPID BLOG^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-69240199361057258222007-01-29T17:22:00.000-08:002007-01-29T18:22:32.372-08:00on being a real human beingI'm doing things right, I think. I can tell because the universe has given me a new apartment with a puppy in.<br /><br />This is because God rewards me with pets.<br /><br />When I was small I would pray for kittens and they would just pop up out of the lenten roses, rain-soaked and mewling. Fur-urchins with fleas on their paws seemed to spontaneously generate from the tangle of brush near the woodpile, and my benign, soft-eyed existence earned me the companionship of numerous baby birds, wayward turtles, orphaned bunnies, and rather affable butterflies. <br /><br />When you think about yuck and rot that is what you get and so on. I've decided hereafter to channel my five-year-old self. I am going to take on projects for the fun of it. I am going to think about birds and why the sky is colored just so. I am going to pick out nice friends to play with and skip skip away from the bad ones. (If there aren't any nice ones about I will spin some out of imaginings, pink spun-sugar friends that will melt on my tongue.) I will read big books and think of big questions and then draw little pictures that aren't very good. I will laugh and play and listen closely for the sounds that only the very small can hear. Most importantly, I will love the people that take care of me and take very good care of the people I love.<br /><br />I am going to be good. For floppy ears' sake I will.^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-5595396286983113792007-01-15T22:01:00.000-08:002008-12-13T03:06:12.382-08:00flightless aquatic birds and cake and love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oXJlxxaTSa0/RaxqeAir8jI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ZY3J3RpQkRA/s1600-h/HappyBdayNeil!.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oXJlxxaTSa0/RaxqeAir8jI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ZY3J3RpQkRA/s400/HappyBdayNeil!.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5020504748385366578" /></a><br /><br />(I love you!)^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-83938758025362350072007-01-08T20:37:00.000-08:002007-01-08T20:52:47.901-08:00Two truths and a lieShe goes to sleep early because of the dull throbbing in her head, a steady staccato that pulses in time with the rhythmic hum of the heat vent (that eternal drone of the present moment vibrating in the stale air). She goes to sleep early and she dreams of better places. <br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />I am nineteen, dizzy with gin and distance. I am thousands of miles from home in a place where the sky is made of pitch and glitter and milk. My clothes are soft flowing things; my hair is coiled tight and tangled by the damp air; my skin tastes like salt (or so you say, and oh I’d have myself believe every word of it). You have hair that is long and dark and thick as sin. It falls about my shoulders as we sit tangled together in the open star-lit stillness. Up on the hill, the landlady’s dogs keep watch (they are illegal in most places, having been bred to bite and never let go). Sometimes we can still hear the rise and fall of familiar voices, filtered through the thick air and the drape of mahogany trees. And we know that somewhere out there are our families, our homes, the places we’ve been, the books we’ve read, the people we’ve loved, the rules we’ve learned to follow. But right here, right now, we are breathing air that we’ve never breathed before. Right now all that exists is this moment, this new air to breathe.</span><br /><br />Here’s to new opportunities for love, for wonder, and for a few stars and gods to look down on me tonight as I lie alone here.^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com77tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-20488213475161415132006-11-24T06:48:00.000-08:002008-12-13T03:06:12.675-08:00An update.Things that have been going on:<br /><br />Joe came to visit and painted a floating Teddy Roosevelt head<br />on Holly’s wall.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/102/301482402_6586b189f5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 335px; height: 338px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/102/301482402_6586b189f5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I went to pledge formal dressed as the Childlike Empress.<br />Got toasts and kisses. There was too much naked.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/100/301489158_9520c0914d.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 328px; height: 246px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/100/301489158_9520c0914d.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I have been writing lots of notes to myself, forgetting about them, and finding them later. They say things like “even in my dreams I rely heavily on air quotes” and “how do you absolutely feel?”<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">How do you absolutely feel?</span><br /><br />A new theme at the house has been “the joys and hazards of living with an art student.” Such as: there is barbed wire and cigarette butts in the Jell-O. And: at three in the morning in a dark kitchen, clumps of sawdust on a cookie tray can look deceptively like apple crisp.<br /><br />I don’t think it is possible to love Jesse any more than I already do. Look at him. Look!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oXJlxxaTSa0/Rb6-dj5fJhI/AAAAAAAAAA8/EHsKoERC6RY/s1600-h/Jesse.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 375px; height: 291px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oXJlxxaTSa0/Rb6-dj5fJhI/AAAAAAAAAA8/EHsKoERC6RY/s400/Jesse.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025663649253893650" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />In other house news, Jess took Binx to get fixed. Bye-bye, Binx’s manhood. You were a smelly manhood and shan’t be missed.<br /><br />Ilana got married and the wedding was beautiful and perfect. The amazing Kat and I looked after many a bebe and it was verygoodtimes. Babies in tiny formalwear and yamikas are awesome. Kat Godfrey is awesome. Chocolate fountains are awesome. Children’s television programming is dreadful.<br /><br />I made a friend on the internets. *waves*<br /><br />Things happened at Linda’s and Skylight and Fuse and The Cave and they were all fun and everybody involved was exceptionally good-looking.<br /><br />Other things have happened but I’ve mostly forgotten them. This is why I keep this godforsaken blog in the first place. Bah.<br /><br />That’ll do.^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1162914482215576232006-11-07T07:43:00.000-08:002008-12-13T03:06:13.189-08:00Chapter One: In which our heroine experiences soul-death and later ruins a perfectly good wristwatch.I am light-headed.<br /><br />We went to Asheville this weekend to see Broken Social Scene play at the Orange Peel. Early Saturday morning everyone in the house was awake and on drugs and in the process of baking a biscuit the size and shape of Japan. MattThomas got us to Asheville in three hours. I spent most of that time in a contented narcotic haze, having tranquilized myself thoroughly after hearing the words “grad school.” (We listened to Dragonforce as gauzy sunlight spilled through the windows and it was glorious, glorious.) There was lunch at the Asheville Pizza and Brewing Company and then we met up with the others downtown. (total: me, Matt, Kenton, Cameron, Erin, Gene) At a bookstore we watched some bizarre hippies doing performance art…some sort of strange falling-leaning dance where they melted and oozed all over one another. Later, CameronKentonGene attempted to bring this artform to the streets of Asheville.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />(pictures ganked from the lovely interrobang)</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oXJlxxaTSa0/Rb63oD5fJfI/AAAAAAAAAAk/rkdEOMVea1c/s1600-h/290234598_0e4c6f6fc5.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 331px; height: 248px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oXJlxxaTSa0/Rb63oD5fJfI/AAAAAAAAAAk/rkdEOMVea1c/s320/290234598_0e4c6f6fc5.0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025656133061125618" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />There was coffee and dinner and bars and then !! indie rock !! (It was very very cold at this point; we clumped together into an amoeba of warmth.) We played Destructo while waiting for the show to start (cup of meat destroyed by meat sweat destroyed by kidney failure destroyed by electrolysis destroyed by power outage…) and made a few friends in the process (copyright law destroyed by Cory Doctorow destroyed by tragic ride malfunction at Disney World…). Do Make Say Think opened and rocked out like a bunch of verbs. Broken Social Scene played a three! hour!! set!!! and it was incredible.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oXJlxxaTSa0/Rb630D5fJgI/AAAAAAAAAAs/5y4NDckaqPU/s1600-h/290242536_2dbce09b2a.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 334px; height: 248px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oXJlxxaTSa0/Rb630D5fJgI/AAAAAAAAAAs/5y4NDckaqPU/s320/290242536_2dbce09b2a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025656339219555842" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />MattThomas and I drove back to Chapel Hill after the show because there was babysittin’ to do in the morning, except I am an idiot and we were a week early. (It is really amazing that MattThomas hasn’t killed me yet.) I went back to bed for 20 hours or so and woke up feeling worthless and miserable. Went to work, went back to sleep, feel better today. Is it still raining? Yes? Good.^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1161980384435240112006-10-27T13:18:00.000-07:002007-01-29T19:21:37.380-08:00Poetry Post (not mine, say thankya)<span style="font-style: italic;">Ezra Pound - Ancient Music</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Winter is icummen in,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Lhude sing Goddamm.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Raineth drop and staineth slop,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And how the wind doth ramm!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sing: Goddamm.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">An ague hath my ham.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Freezeth river, turneth liver,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Damn you, sing: Goddamm.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Goddamm, Goddamm, 'tis why I am, Goddamm,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">So 'gainst the winter's balm.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sing goddamm, damm, sing Goddamm.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sing goddamm, sing goddamm, DAMM.</span><br /><br />(Pssst. I actually love gray weather and maple leaves and puddles and apple cider and so, yes, the world is perfect perfect perfect.)<br /><br />Everybody come see The Wall, kay?^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1161491967028042532006-10-21T21:23:00.000-07:002007-01-29T23:16:56.171-08:00Marie, Marie, hold on tight.Hello.<br /><br />On Wednesday afternoon, after having spent some time in the shower, crying, hugging my knees, staring blankly at the soap-bottle and thinking “Well, now what,” I received a call from MattThomas, fixer of all things. He and Daniel drove me home to see my mom, who had been taken to the hospital for surgery that afternoon. She was in a lot of pain for a couple of days. I drew her baths, scratched her back, held her hand, helped around the house, did what I could to make things better for her. Today she was feeling much healthier, so much so that we were able to go on a walk this morning. Hopefully she’ll be back to swimming a mile a morning in no time.<br /><br />It has been good to be home. I feel useful here, and loved. Papa makes me cinnamon toast for breakfast, Joe and I stay up late watching his latest films (Teddy Roosevelt’s Organelle Safari is a must-see), and Tom the cat bites my toes (lovingly). Joe and I went on a date last night to the Witches Brew, and then later he, Monty, and I went to Lincolnton’s new Waffle House. Classy. Picture:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/84/275806312_f331cf5c6c.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 317px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/84/275806312_f331cf5c6c.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I’ve been to the doctor finally, (was still running a 100 degree fever till Friday for whatever reason) and I got my Zoloft dosage doubled plus a flu shot. I’m severely anemic again, which explains the fatigue. Lots more pills for me. Oh pills.<br /><br />Thanks so much to everybody who has called me and expressed their concern for both me and my mom. It feels really good to know that I am cared for.<br /><br />Love you guys. I’ll see you tomorrow.^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1161136208251487602006-10-17T18:48:00.000-07:002006-11-15T12:10:51.517-08:00Panic Attack ManifestoOkay internets, here’s what’s up.<br /><br />Much like a Rachael Ray recipe, the past two weeks have been erratic and absurd. The flakey crust of mayhem and laffs may suggest nothing but delicious enjoyment, but the hearty smattering of misery and confusion is leaving a bad taste in my mouth.<br /><br />/end idiot metaphor<br /><br />I’m going to go ahead and get all of the worrisome stuff out of the way right now. I really need to clear my head. Later on I’m going to pay tribute to all the good stuff and Jesse-mayhem that has gone on recently which will hopefully cheer me up and not make me seem like such a sad kid. But first.<br /><br />Let me preface it this way. Here is what is not fun: having panic attacks for no good reason, leaving your friends downstairs to go curl into the fetal position and cry, hoping vaguely for someone to come comfort you (nobody does and your heart is beating muchtoofast). Here is what is not fun: the 6am check to see if the person you are seeing is in bed with any of your housemates, since he sure isn’t in bed with you, (and, well). Here is what is not fun: your mom being very sick with another strange chronic condition and she is worried and sad and you are worried and sad and you just want to go home and make things better. Here is what is not fun: vivid nightmares every night, sore tense muscles every morning, and the feeling that everything is and has been wrong for a very long time now.<br /><br />Also I am worried about this: when I moved to Chapel Hill I didn't know anyone or anything and I liked it that way. It's been five years and my mistakes are written everywhere and I sometimes think it would be good to go someplace new and start fresh. But what if I'm just fooling myself; pretending like anywhere I move to next will be any different in the end, like once half a decade goes by things won't feel stagnant and spent, like living this way won’t mean having to keep on and keep on leaving people and places in my wake like wasted empty plastic bags.<br /><br />On top of everything, I’ve been sick this week with a fever-tummy-headache bug. It rains all day and my heart hurts and I’m lonely. I want to feel good about things, people. I want to feel good about things; people.^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1160065405131495992006-10-05T09:17:00.000-07:002006-11-15T12:10:51.386-08:00...I am officially out of reasons not to throw myself into oncoming traffic.^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1159922652108828822006-10-03T17:39:00.000-07:002006-11-15T12:10:51.267-08:00Bus Blog<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:9;">This morning on the bus, a dialogue:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:9;"><o:p></o:p><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Emily</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> enters bus with a million pounds of crap, sits down next to </span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">tall blond Austrian dude</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:9;"><o:p></o:p><span style="font-weight: bold;">t-bad:</span><span style=""> </span>You have enough stuff dere, ya?<o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">em:</span> Ha, ha.<span style=""> </span>Yeah.<o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">t-bad:</span> You having good semesta at school?<o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">em:</span> Um, I’m not a student.<span style=""> </span>I work.<span style=""> </span>At the university.<o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">t-bad:</span> Oh!<span style=""> </span>What do you do?<o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">em:</span> I manage a research lab.<span style=""> </span>Psychology.<o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">t-bad:</span> Oh!<span style=""> </span>Does it make you happy?<span style=""> </span>You sit on the leetle couch?<o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">em:</span> Heh…actually I do research on memory.<o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">t-bad:</span> On what?<o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">em:</span> Memory.<o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">t-bad: </span>On what?<o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">em: </span>Mem…ha, ha.<o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">t-bad:</span> So you work with the leetle rats?<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">em: </span>Um, no. With people.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">t-bad:</span> You know how it is easier to remember some things, like… the ice cream flavors? but harder to remember people’s names?<span style=""> </span>You know?<o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">em: </span>Yeah.<o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">t-bad:</span><span style=""><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span> </span>You should do experiment…with different ice cream flavors.<span style=""> </span>And different kinds of potatoes!<span style=""> </span>You know?<span style=""> </span>The little…red potatoes and the big white ones?<o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">em:</span> Oh yeah.<span style=""> </span>That…would be interesting.<o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">t-bad:</span> Ah, I missed my stop.<o:p></o:p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">em: </span>Oops.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:9;"><o:p></o:p>Today at work I noticed that the green light that the copier gives off is exactly the color of something that would cause one to mutate or develop superpowers.<span style=""> </span>My right hand is constantly exposed to that green light. And so it is only a matter of time before I develop the ability to duplicate things just by poking them with my index finger.<span style=""> </span>(Logic.<span style="">) </span>This would prove handy in replicating many things (twenty dollar bills, AA batteries, socks) but I’d have to wear a protective glove at times, for certain.<span style=""> </span>Just imagine…I’d be absently petting Binx and wham! a house full of tiny black kitties.<span style=""> </span>Jess’ sheets would never be clean again. <span style=""> </span>Oooh…but at the movies I could eat popcorn forever and the bag would NEVER BE EMPTY.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:9;"><o:p style="font-family: arial;"></o:p><span style="font-family:arial;">Okay, best superpower ever.</span><span style=""><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1159494613334382642006-09-28T18:29:00.002-07:002006-11-15T12:10:50.418-08:00Holly on the half shell<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.flickr.com/116/254807822_0e41c3d11b.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://static.flickr.com/116/254807822_0e41c3d11b.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.flickr.com/98/254807821_e18dde0d8c.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://static.flickr.com/98/254807821_e18dde0d8c.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.flickr.com/88/254807816_8298078ea9.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://static.flickr.com/88/254807816_8298078ea9.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.flickr.com/104/254807824_4e8834b9aa.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://static.flickr.com/104/254807824_4e8834b9aa.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Holly wore a Ninja Turtle costume to Fuse last night.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I love her.</span>^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1159364640891765792006-09-27T06:38:00.002-07:002006-11-15T12:10:49.954-08:00fiery death and Alice Cooper’s sinewy thighs<span style="font-family:arial;">Dave was telling me a story this morning about a friend of his who got set on fire via Molotov cocktail during a fight (a change of pace from our current topic of the week, Bugs: eating them; big creepy ones) and I suddenly had the strangest wave of déjà vu. Did someone get set on fire recently? Was I talking about setting people on fire with someone? Rachael Ray? Were we going to set Rachael Ray on fire? Did she set herself on fire? This is going to bother me all day.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I’m curious about the guy on the bus every morning with the long wet hair who is always writing furiously in his Moleskine. Is he crazy, brilliant, pretentious? What the heck is he writing about? Is he taking careful study of everyone on the bus? Or perhaps writing down his detailed Alice Cooper fantasies? Mysteries.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Oh and really, there are few things quite as bothersome as waking up to find an angry e-mail written to you in Spanish from your ex. Okay, yes, I’m sorry I didn’t make it to see your band play last night. But I had other plans and besides, maybe I’m not ready to see you yet. </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" >Maybe I’m not ready to see you yet. Quizás no estoy listo verle.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">It is a tiresome life I lead.</span>^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1159228297127381322006-09-25T16:50:00.000-07:002006-11-15T12:10:49.500-08:00and then<span style="font-family:arial;">In between all the nightmares I had last night there was one funny dream mixed in. I was trying to decide on what to be for Halloween and had narrowed it down to either a pixel or Helvetica. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Both remind me of how I used to sit in eighth grade algebra and stare intently at some symbol in the textbook, trying to merge myself into it. IF I FOCUS ALL OF MY MENTAL ENERGY ON THIS BETA I WILL SHRINK SO TINY SMALL INTO AN INK DOT AND THEN I CAN SLEEP FOREVER AND BE TINYSMALL AND NO ONE WILL EVER BOTHER ME </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"> Those who know me well may recognize this sort of thinking from a time not too long ago. Ah, me! But all those people are gone.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"> Today during my lunch break I lay down under a sugar maple and thought about home. </span>^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1159176823312432562006-09-25T02:30:00.000-07:002006-11-15T12:10:49.234-08:00when I was a child things being hurt made me sorry for them<p class="MsoNormal">(but it seemed the way men and women did and we had not made the world.)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">My throat feels bee-stung.<span style=""> </span>I’m starting to feel again like I should leave this place.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I also feel as if I could cry but I think instead I will make a list, read for a while, sleep if I can (I can’t), then go to work and do simple calm things.<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic;">Don’t take everything so personally, Emily.</span><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Okay, okay.</p>^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1158938018351305712006-09-22T08:12:00.000-07:002006-11-15T12:10:49.124-08:00copy room haiku<span style="font-family:arial;">Two hundred copies</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Double sided black and white</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">So very boring</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I have a question</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">It’s: what the hell is toner?</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">What the hell is it?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">The copy machine</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Hates me. It knows I’m coming.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">It will jam again.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Stupid copier</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Quit eating all my papers</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I will kick you hard</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Today I am writing haiku in my head whilst doing tedious tasks. <br />Gotta put that English degree to good use. : (</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Party at the House of Awesome tonight! Get pumped!</span>^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1158732213241190692006-09-19T23:02:00.000-07:002007-01-29T19:51:08.331-08:00hangover update.<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;">So I got in about two hours worth of work in before resigning myself to the office toilet for some quality heaving.<span style=""> </span>I finally gave up and went home.<span style=""> </span>(And really, I was and continue to be very put out by all this…I had one beer, one admittedly potent gin and tonic, and five sips of an LIT. <span style=""> </span>I blame the bartender.<span style=""> </span>I blame the “beer before liquor” rule.<span style=""> </span>I blame twenty-one years of relative sobriety.)<span style=""> </span>On the walk back to Carrboro, some idiot drove past and made kissy noises at me.<span style=""> </span>Pity he hadn’t been driving a bit slower; I could have thrown up in his car.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style=""> </span><br />I was pleased to find a sleepy Neil on the couch when I got home.<span style=""> </span>Among his many other fine qualities, Neil is an exceptional generator of comforting body heat and cuteness.<span style=""> </span>A few hours of napping and a lot of water later and I was pretty much back to normal.<span style=""> </span>But poor little Jess is still a sickly, starving thing, and Holly and I did our best to ease her suffering with the healing powers of Star Trek, Wayne’s World, and Wendy’s.<span style=""> </span>A strange man who turned out to be my dad showed up at the door while we were watching House to report that my car-beast is functional once more.<span style=""> </span>(Felicidades!<span style="">) </span><span style=""> </span>So today was, at the last, a good day.<span style=""> </span>Bed!</p>^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1158675210154685742006-09-19T07:11:00.000-07:002006-11-15T12:10:48.900-08:00oh nos.<span style="font-family:arial;">It is a terrible thing when you drag yourself into the shower in the morning because you think you smell like a Fuse-sicle, only to later discover that it is the house, not you, that smells like cigarettes. Cigarettes! Why must you make me so itchy-hurty-swollen? I feel like-a the poopoo. Last night was fun though. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">First, a word about the weekend:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I think I’m getting to the point where I find Lincolnton quaint and adorable rather than stifling and vaguely depressing. And really, nothing is cuter or more representative of small-town kitsch than the Apple Festival. The fam and I made our rounds at the festival and then the lot of us went out to dinner at Fox’s, which has the best seafood ever. <span style="font-style: italic;">Ever.</span> I found out the secret to why their baked potatoes are so damn tasty: they boil them in salt water a little before putting them in the oven. Genius! I was reminded of how when we were kids my dad would always order the seafood platter and give mom his deviled crab (her favorite). I used to think that this was the most romantic thing ever. I guess that I now think the most romantic thing ever would be having “International Small Arms Traffic Blues” sung to me, but what do I know about how the world works? Nothing, nothing. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Oh god, today. My only consolation is that eventually I will get to go home, eat a baked potato, take a nap, and go to Bryan &amp; Andy’s to watch movies. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">P.S. Holly: your head scratches so good make-a grown man cry. </span>^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1158331490295227192006-09-15T07:43:00.000-07:002006-11-15T12:10:48.781-08:00homeward bound<span style="font-family: arial;">Last night I woke up from a dream I was having, (violently bludgeoning a room full of people with one of those hinged closet doors from the south campus dorms, but that’s neither here nor there) grabbed a notebook and wrote this down:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-style: italic;">Remember to unlock the car tomorrow. Remember to buy peanut butter. Remember to call everyone who needs calling. Remember to remove summer skirts. At the last of it, send out the following psychic message: Please don’t let me down. Please don’t let me down. Please don’t let me down. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">I am going home today to see my family. The Lincoln County Apple Festival is this weekend, so hurry and get in all your requests for apples, apple tarts, apple pies, apple cider, apple butter, and apples covered in candy, caramel, and/or nuts.</span>^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1158211372164543232006-09-13T22:20:00.000-07:002006-11-15T12:10:48.672-08:00earth is soft and it yields to pressure<p face="arial" class="MsoNormal">Tonight Bryan and I were driving into <st1:place st="on">Chapel Hill</st1:place> to get some dinner and he begins telling me about this guy that comes into VisArt (his current place o’ employment) whom everyone calls “The Masturbator.”<span style=""> </span>As that moniker might imply, this dude comes into VisArt with the sole intent of hanging out in the porn section with his hands down his pants.<span style=""> </span><st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Bryan</st1:place></st1:city> says that occasionally this guy will surface, hand still securely down his drawers, stare at one of the female employees for a bit, and then retreat again into the porn room.<span style=""> </span>The world is so full of strange people; I shall never be bored. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">Bought a bunch of books today at the used bookstore downtown, including some old Faulkner, Graham Greene, and a book of Vonnegut essays that I had never seen before and which I am pretty excited about.<span style=""> </span>Certain people who owe me thirty dollars better be glad that I was occupied in sharing an umbrella with a very dapper Will Walter coming home from the comic book store and that I didn’t have a free hand to ROB and KILL them. </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">Starting with my next paycheck I think I’m going to begin setting aside cash for travel adventures, the first of which will be a trip to <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Korea</st1:place></st1:country-region> to see Cassidy-my-love.<span style=""> </span>A bit more should be kept for later when I decide to escape the country for a while.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p style="font-family: arial;"></o:p><span style="font-family:arial;">I have big plans involving a down comforter and rain on a tin roof, so goodnight.</span> </p>^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1158171426073463762006-09-13T10:55:00.000-07:002006-11-15T12:10:48.562-08:00cat post1. Binx is a ghost<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.flickr.com/77/230644859_70ff38d1f7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://static.flickr.com/77/230644859_70ff38d1f7.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.flickr.com/98/230644858_a7f0837cc5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://static.flickr.com/98/230644858_a7f0837cc5.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />2. And <a href="http://whiteninjacomics.com/comics/cansit.shtml">this</a> is pretty much the best thing I've ever seen.<a href="http://whiteninjacomics.com/comics/cansit.shtml"><br /></a>^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1158035061847543082006-09-11T21:20:00.000-07:002006-11-15T12:10:48.467-08:00b is for blatheringSo recently I’ve been helping design a study based loosely on Bar & Aminoff’s work concerning the cortical processing of contextual associations.<span style=""> </span>Basically, we are going to try to test the idea that there are different neural mechanisms activated by visual cues that represent certain contexts (like a barn, a cow, and a haystack to represent a farm) and by those visual cues that represent certain categories (drinks, toys, shoes), but which are unrelated to any unifying context in particular.<span style=""> </span>Anyhow.<span style=""> </span>I was searching on the Microsoft website for photo clip art of toys and I found this beauty:<br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.flickr.com/96/236845891_c6877173e6.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://static.flickr.com/96/236845891_c6877173e6.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>What the crap.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;">So I quit the cult in a fairly amusing manner and after that my weekend just kept on getting better.<span style=""> </span>Nothing like free will to make your bed comfy and your food taste good.<span style=""> </span>My car broke down and I continue to be lousy with ex-boyfriends (I mean that in the “covered with, as one might be covered in lice” sense, not in the “terrible with” sense) but these things are vaguely hilarious and I’m having a great time. <span style=""> </span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">It’s almost autumn. I’m knitting ugly yellow legwarmers. People kept winking at me today, what’s up with that?</p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p>I’m spent.</p>^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1157729318454909202006-09-08T08:27:00.000-07:002006-11-15T12:10:48.369-08:00the Legacy Center is a cult and I am miserable, part two<p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal">I forgot to mention that at the end of each session we have to close our eyes and listen intently to Tim McGraw's "<font>Live Like You Were Dying."</span></p><span style="font-family:arial;"><font><font><font><font><font><font> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"><o:p><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></o:p></p><span style="font-family:arial;"><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font>I HAVE BEEN TO HELL AND THE COFFEE IS TERRIBLE.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></p><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font></span><font> 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class="MsoNormal"></p>^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com148tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1157727481762553142006-09-08T07:54:00.000-07:002006-11-16T05:12:14.656-08:00the Legacy Center is a cult and I am miserable, part one<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;">Okay.<span style=""> </span>Okay.<span style=""> </span>Here is my dilemma: I hate the self-help cult.<span style=""> </span>It is hell on earth.<span style=""> </span>On the first day of the seminar, the lead cult robot (who looks like Dick Cheney) made me so anxious that I actually felt physically ill.<span style=""> </span>I haven’t learned anything. <span style=""> </span>Every single concept is a watered down version of something you could find in a philosophy text or a social psychology class. It is inane.<span style=""> </span>And the more I think about it, the more I realize that the point of the Cheney-bot being such an evil tyrant on Day One was to promote the post hoc fallacy…after any period of distress you are going to later feel a period of (comparative) upswing or satisfaction, right?<span style=""> </span>So if I go back to the cult and things feel comparatively better just because they aren’t as shitty-awful as yesterday, I’m supposed to mistake that for personal growth and improvement, aren’t I?<span style=""> </span>It’s like boot camp.<span style=""> </span>Fuck that noise.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;">Oh, and yesterday?<span style=""> </span>Cheney-bot taught us that everything is our fault.<span style=""> </span>(Intended point: feeling like a victim isn’t healthy and taking responsibility for one’s own life is important.) His version, however, included the idea that depression (we’re talking the clinical condition, folks) is a choice.<span style=""> </span>I was livid.<span style=""> </span>I am dealing with truly stupid people here.<span style=""> </span>The worst thing is that I know exactly what they are trying to say and trying to teach us, but they are fucking it up.<span style=""> </span>Everything is scripted.<span style=""> </span>If someone tries to introduce a complexity into the equation, Cheney-bot gets pissy and shuts them down.<span style=""> </span>One of the robots who sits at the back of the room has a habit of constantly, constantly shaking his head in disagreement anytime anybody speaks unless the person is repeating the exact jargon the Cheney-bot has been feeding us.<span style=""> </span>Fuck that.<o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;">I am twenty-two.<span style=""> </span>I have an amazing family.<span style=""> </span>I love my housemates and my friends.<span style=""> </span>I have a great job.<span style=""> </span>I have a million things to look forward to.<span style=""> </span>My problems aren’t the end of the world; they’re part of my life.<span style=""> </span>I get that now.<span style=""> </span>I am wasting my time and money on this asinine program.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p style="font-family: arial;"></o:p><span style="font-family:arial;">Back to my dilemma: do I quit the cult today and lose $500, or do I suffer through 30 more hours of this bullshit in the next four days and then ask for my money back? I’m screwed either way.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:arial;">Thanks for nothing, </span><st1:place style="font-family: arial;" st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Legacy</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Center</st1:placetype></st1:place><span style="font-family:arial;">.</span> </p>^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33461725.post-1157608419848071282006-09-06T22:44:00.000-07:002006-11-15T12:10:48.173-08:00ugh.<span style="font-family:arial;">Well </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" >that</span><span style="font-family:arial;"> was perfectly dreadful.<br /><br /><br /><br /></span>^_^http://www.blogger.com/profile/13919812113708921034noreply@blogger.com1